Empire State of Mind
by KMR12
Summary: Forced to work for pennies on the dollar at Steele Communications, Christian Grey's young life is blighted. Raymond Steele delights in tormenting the brilliant twenty-one year old with the dark past. Every day is a battle of wills and a struggle to survive with Christian dreaming of the day Steele Communications burns to the ground... to be rebuilt from the ashes.


"Grey!"

They all averted their eyes, turned their chairs surreptitiously to the right. No one wanted to witness the carnage for the third time in as many hours. No one spared a pitying glance for the peculiarly grey-eyed young man with the drawn, gaunt face. He didn't expect them too, either. Not really. The cheap, itchy material of his thrift store sports coat chafed against his skeletal frame as he walked slowly towards the gallows. His skin felt tight over his high and prominent cheek bones as he ground his teeth to keep his shit together.

Whatever happened, he must not react.

Susan, the career secretary, stole a glance as he passed and felt her stomach churn. There was something about that kid. Something his wildly handsome features, to which he seemed oblivious, couldn't obscure. That boy had a past. She'd bet her meager 401K on it and that past... well, it wasn't little league and cookouts on the lawn. She turned back to to her screen and tried not to wince as the guttural roaring began.

Christian Grey stood tall and straight and spoke in his quiet, odd manner.

"Yes, Mr. Steele?"

Raymond C. Steele looked up from behind his mahogany desk with a snarl that turned his cold, blue eyes into serpentine slits. Piles of paper teetered precariously on either side of his beefy stomach. Despite his status as the mogul of communications, both stateside and further afield, he did not tend to his own appearance. Christian silently noted the mustard stain on the grubby white shirt and swallowed a disgusted grimace.

He could not stand mess.

"Tell me, boy," Raymond snarled, "are you a simpleton? A moron, a buffoon?"

Christian considered this question briefly.

"No, Sir," he answered in that perfect, melodious voice that drove Raymond nuts. "I don't believe I am any of those things. Perhaps you could let me know what the issue is and I will do whatever it takes to-"

"That was a rhetorical question you idiot!" Raymond screeched, his walrus mustache billowing in the middle of his ruddy face. Years of alcohol abuse was beaten into his every uncleared pore. "Didn't your mother ever teach you to identify a rhetorical question?"

He watched with distaste as Christian stared calmly ahead, no reaction to be seen.

"What did I tell you to do with respect to the Middleton brief?"

"Undertake a risk analysis and conflict of interest search," Christian replied immediately. "I did so and found the Client to be both low risk and in no insurmountable conflict with any of our existing Clients..."

Raymond held up a pudgy hand, complete with filthy fingernails. Christian swallowed in disgust and battled to keep his face carbon neutral. He was on thinner than thin ice with this creature and if he lost this paycheck... well, it didn't bear thinking about. A stony silence coated the room for an outrageous length of time and Raymond felt the rage build at his assistants complete self control.

The little fucker didn't even flinch.

Truth was, that's why he hated the kid. He felt like those creepy grey eyes could see right through him. See right down to his soul, what was left of it. But... the board wanted the PR of employing the dredges of society and he needed a happy board. Breathing out slowly, he reached for the Middleton file and held it aloft.

"The Middletons are in direct conflict with the Coopers. The Coopers some of our oldest Clients and the fucking Middletons are their direct competition. We can't represent both! A grade school kid could've found that link in five minutes and politely told the newbies to sling their hook. But not you... oh no, not you! You've only gone and sent a letter of engagement to them, without asking first, and now I have to pick up the phone and let them go!"

Christian looked at the man with his mask of professional calmness.

Inside, he was burning with rage.

"Sir, if you turn to the back of that file you will see that I identified the link to the Coopers but also identified the lacuna in our service agreement with them that would allow us to represent the Middletons. Without conflict. The Middletons projected Profit and Loss has them approaching a Fortune 500 company within ten years from now. We want to be in on the grass roots of a company like that... I'm sure you'll agree."

Raymond slack jaw fell wide open as he choked on the impertinence.

_The temerity. _

Heat began to rise up on the back of his neck as his rage became clouded with embarrassment. He hadn't seen the identified link. He didn't know about any such lacuna in the Coopers contract and before the kid had brought them in, he had never heard of the Middletons. Those grey eyes bore into his and he felt the usual discomforting effect the freaky intern had on him.

At his heart, Raymond Steele was a bully. A bully who got by on his bluster.

Unable to attack Christian's argument, he scoffed loudly and turned for the first time to the one other desk contained in his expansive office. Seated at that desk was a young lady. Petite, with pale skin and dark hair, this young lady was a beauty.

And she knew it.

"Anastasia, darling," Raymond drawled. "Where do you go to school?"

The young woman smirked and looked up from her computer screen and her online shopping.

"Harvard, daddy. Like you, of course."

Raymond smiled indulgently at his daughter before turning cold eyes back to Christian.

"And you, Grey, where do _you _go to school?"

Christian clenched his teeth, invisibly, and squared his shoulders. This was a familiar line of attack and he could feel Anastasia's eyes boring into his back, drinking in his humiliation for her own pleasure. Remembering what was on the line, he drew in a lungful of air and spoke with his usual and impeccable manners.

"I don't go to school, Sir."

Raymond grinned.

"So... all you bring to the table is your shitty High School Diploma, is that correct?"

Christian nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Raymond leaned back in his chair and smirked. He had won this round and he knew it.

"Well, I think if I want advice on contractual loopholes, I will ask my daughter... the Harvard Law School student. Not the copy boy with the High School Diploma from the wrong side of town. Does that make sense to you, Grey?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Christian nodded slowly.

Placing a pantomime hand behind his large, hairy ear, Raymond raised a brow.

"Didn't hear you there, Grey. I asked if what if what I said makes sense to you?"

"Yes, Sir," Christian murmured, feeling the bile rise in his throat. "It makes sense."

"Well, gee, thank god for that," Raymond snapped sarcastically. "Now, get the fuck out and get back to whatever it is I pay you do... if you can manage it."

Nodding wordlessly, Christian made for the door and opened it out onto the open floor area where the eavesdroppers hurriedly turned back to their screens. Closing the door, he heard the last comment of Raymond C. Steele, as was his intention.

"Anastasia, honey, do your father one favor and never bring me home a creature like that."

The soft laughter of the communications heiress burned in Christian's ears.

"Daddy, please, I think I'd rather die. I don't date _freaks _with zero ambitions."

Raymond chuckled.

"That's my girl."

Christian let the door close softly and walked calmly back towards his cheap desk with the uneven legs. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at his phone and saw the text message notification. Opening it quickly and reading the contents even more quickly, he felt his heart plummet through his body and splash out onto the floor.

"_Christian. It's about Mom... she's in hospital again. We need you here." _


End file.
